


grubbing in the ashes

by ishie



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Apocalypse, Gen, Tropes, tumblrfics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-27
Updated: 2012-09-27
Packaged: 2017-11-15 03:29:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishie/pseuds/ishie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://muirwolf.tumblr.com/">muirwolf</a> asked for: Elementary - apocalypse</p>
            </blockquote>





	grubbing in the ashes

There’s something to be said for the kind of focus that blinds one to all external stimuli. Not much of it is complimentary, in Joan’s opinion, but still, it is remarkable to watch. She stopped trying to call his attention to anything new fairly early in their relationship, but it never stops amazing her how completely he’s able to tune everything out. Every week seems to take him to an all-new level of self-absorption, but this is really the pinnacle.

Four days. It takes almost four days of incessant sirens and breaking news alerts before the great Sherlock Holmes finally notices that the world is ending around them.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Joan. It’s only the collapse of your not-so-unique American civilization, not the entire planet.”

“It’s in London, too.”

Sherlock blinks. “Perhaps we should think about getting out of the city?”

He also hasn’t noticed the duffel bags waiting by the foot of the stairs, it seems, even though he’s tripped over them at least three times.

The streets are quiet, almost totally devoid of traffic. She has two passes from Gregson that are supposed to get them through the checkpoints but of course nothing is guaranteed anymore. Sherlock scoffs at the flimsy pieces of cardstock until they get waved through the first one by a National Guardsman with a very impressive rifle.

“Where is the rendezvous? New Haven? Princeton? Surely we aren’t expected to drive all the way to Atlanta?”

“We’re not expected to go anywhere. Your father’s arranged for several—”

“Of course he has. So we’re meant to sit and wait somewhere until—”

“What do you expect? You didn’t even notice—”

“Well, I have now!”

“—and if you had, you’d know there isn’t much to be done!”

Sherlock sulks until they’re almost a half-day’s drive out of the city. They’re surrounded by trees on both sides of the narrow road, and every town they drive through seems abandoned, though Joan knows that if they slowed down they’d see signs of life still. 

“We don’t know there isn’t much to be done, Joan,” he says at last. “ _I_ don’t know that.”

“I know,” she says, flipping on the turn signal out of long habit rather than any need to alert other drivers to her intentions. A steel gate blocks the way down an otherwise nondescript drive. She can tell Sherlock’s spotted the security cameras by the way he leans forward suddenly, excitement starting to replace his petulance.

Joan waves her pass out the window long enough for whoever’s on the other end of the security system to read what’s on it, and the gate springs open with a clang and a hum.

“It seems I’ve underestimated you yet again, Dr Watson.”

That’s probably as close to an apology as she’s going to get for a while. 

“You keep doing that,” Joan says. “For such a smart guy, you’d think you’d have learned by now.”


End file.
